Outrageous Obsessions
by Flying Dragonite
Summary: Chrystine Roane -the Slytherin who is supposed to be a Ravenclaw. Always obsessively writing, she never fits in anywhere, but she has no want or need to be. Tom Riddle -Heir of Slytherin, next Dark Lord. Always obsessively 'playing' with people, always gets what he wants. And he wants Chrystine Roane as HIS. A good combination? Not on your life.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So… yeah just a random one-shot I thought of while reading Past's Player, by The Fictionist. –It's really good, by the way, as is its sequel/prequel? Fate's Favorite is finished but Past's Player is not; Past's Player happened before Fate's Favorite, though… if that makes sense. :D Confusing; yay, Alexa would be happy! Anyways… should I bother continuing it? If I did, it would be long in between updates… they would all be random one-shots in this realm of plot bunny, though, because I'm not really a stick-to-it writer that much… never finished a story in my entire life… D: though I'm getting close, with my pokemon fanfic, only about 10 more chappies to go on that one, yays! Anyways… what'cha think?**

Outrageous Obsessions

_Blackstorm crept forward, keeping his body low; his ears pricked forward, picking up the softest sounds, his nose scenting the faintest smells. He waited for the wind to change, and when it did, he burst into a run, leaping forward and landing on his prey, fangs bared and bloodlust up –_

Chrystine's quill sped across her spare parchment, unable to stop herself from pouring out the plot bunnies that just wouldn't give up. "Miss Roane!" it was the sharp voice of Professor Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher. She scowled. Dumbledore only took that tone with Slytherins, the biased bastard. She raised her head.

"Yes, Professor?" she answered, keeping her voice calm despite the scorn running through her.

"Have you already completed the Transfiguration of a mouse into a flower?" He asked, sweeping over. Chrystine flushed.

"Yes, sir," she said tightly, gesturing to the flower on her desk. Dumbledore canceled the transfiguration and ordered her to perform the charm for him. She could sense the whole class' eyes on her, and she gritted her teeth. _He knew she hated attention!_

"Mutare a flour!" she intoned, focusing, shaping her magic to her will. The mouse squeaked in fright as it changed tail-first, the tail becoming the stem of a rose. She smirked as she listened to its frightened squeals, which only died when the rose was complete.

"Five points from Slytherin," Dumbledore stated coldly. Chrystine's head shot up, rage filling her eyes.

"What?!" she spat. "You asked me to do the transformation and I did!"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "For not paying attention in my class, Miss Roane, and for being purposefully cruel to a living creature. Don't make me add a detention to it, as well."

He walked away, and her eyes followed him, filled with righteous anger and, strangely, desperation. She gave a slight shudder at the gazes of the other Slytherins, filled with contempt and scorn. When the bell had at last rung, she was the first out of the door, books in her arms and her face flushing.

_Why was I Sorted into Slytherin?_ She moaned to herself, slipping into an empty corridor and leaning her back to the wall, eyes closed and breathing harsh. Five years ago, she had started at Hogwarts, eager to learn everything she could, be the top Ravenclaw at the school, just as her parents expected of her –but then Fate had decided to screw with her, and had placed her into Slytherin.

Her parents dismissed her from their minds, now; she was the family disgrace, the only one not _smart_ enough to get into Ravenclaw, and of course, Slytherins were Dark Wizards, and evil. All her family felt for her was contempt, and no one outside of Slytherin would ever accept her because of the fact that she _was_ a Slytherin.

Even in Slytherin, she was an outcast, because though she was a pureblood, her parents rejected normal pureblood life, and looked down on other purebloods, making her a mockery in Slytherin. They labled her family, and thus her, as blood-traitors. Besides, cunning and slippery she may be, she was not prepared for the level of politics within the Slytherin House.

So she had no one, and would certainly receive nothing from her parents. Everything she had was a product of her own work, her own doing –but she was no genius, only a good student because of her obsessive studying, and her head was constantly in the clouds. She wanted to be a writer –but that simply wasn't something wizards _did_. All books were written by squibs or extremely low-power wizards, which she was not.

But it was the only thing that made her life tolerable –the writing. She could not simply stop writing, it was her only escape, because anything else, people could find and mock her for. But she burned anything she wrote immediately after writing it, so no one could find out her secret. Which reminded her –she took out the paper she had been writing on, and with a flick of her wand, set it on fire. She watched in silent fascination as the flames curled up the parchment, a myriad of orange and red and yellow, and in the center, a light blue. The edges of the parchment curled, browning and blackening until everything had gone up into smoke and ashes.

"Pyromaniac, are you, Roane?" A quiet voice asked from the entrance of the corridor. Chrystine turned to see the last person she wanted to see –Tom Riddle.

"Yes, because that's the only reason a person has to set a piece of paper on fire," She replied sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at him. "I thought I made it clear to you that I wanted nothing to do with you and your little circle of sycophants."

"Oh yes, you made it crystal clear," the other returned, ice in his gaze. "I chose to ignore it."

"OH you _did_, did you?" Chrystine snarled. "Leave me alone, Riddle, I don't want to deal with your oh-so exalted presence today!" She made to sweep past him, only to have her arm grabbed in a vice-grip. "Let go of my arm," she hissed dangerously, her magic beginning to rise.

"Not if you're just going to _walk away from me_," Riddle refused, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "In case you hadn't noticed in the five years you've known me, Chrystine, I do not _like_ being dismissed." His voice had gone dangerously soft.

"And in case you hadn't noticed in the five years you've known _me_, I don't like being **touched**!" Chrystine growled, jerking her arm away from him and sending a jolt of magic down her arm. Riddle let go before the magic reached his hand, looking furious.

"You _dare_-?" he began, but Chrystine was gone, fleeing so fast she might as well have aparated. He cursed, disappointed to lose his toy, _again_. She had been pulling that disappearing act as long as he'd known her, never allowing him close enough long enough to be able to talk to her longer than ten minutes. She had something to hide; and he was going to find out what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: So… I am pleasantly surprised by the notice this little fic has gotten already! O.O surprise surprise! Is it because it is within the realm of HP –which is awesome, I'll admit- or is it because of Tom Riddle? I'm curious. Hmmmm. Anyways… enjoy this next little installment. This happens a couple weeks after the last chapter, btw.**

_James ran the knife down his victim's arm. "Yes, you'll scream for me, won't you, dear?" he whispered excitedly, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood that suddenly permeated the room as the red liquid trailed out of the cut._

"Damn that smug git," Chrystine muttered angrily as she set fire to her latest work. She was hidden in some remote corner of the castle, waiting for the student populace to go to sleep, knowing she could not risk sneaking into the kitchens or the Common Room until everyone had gone.

Riddle had made it clear that he was _not_ going to leave her alone, and he was clearly obsessed. She hated that she was the object of his obsession. For years now, she'd feared becoming that object, and for years she had dodged becoming interesting enough for him to pursue. But over the summer she had reached Magical Maturity, and with it came an increase –a very dramatic one at that- in her powers. And nothing intrigued Riddle more than power.

She had accidently blown Malfoy across the room during the annual Slytherin Halloween party when, drunk, he had tried to make moves on her. She'd lost her temper and her magic had reacted explosively, sending Malfoy sprawling and damn near giving him a concussion –not that he hadn't deserved it, the arrogant git. That night, she caught Riddle's attention, and not once had it wavered since.

Chrystine never wanted Riddle's attention, since all of his 'toys' ended up broken and clinging to him like lost puppies. She had no desire to become one of his pandering sycophants, as she had snapped at him that day in the abandoned corridor. No, while she wished that she could have someone to turn to as a friend, she did not desire Tom –fucking, arrogant bastard- Riddle to be that 'friend.' She would rather go through life alone than to lay at someone's feet, begging for scraps of attention.

She set out for the kitchens, making sure to cling to the shadows, not wanting to be caught by a prefect or a teacher –God forbid perfect Prefect Riddle found her out of the Common Room at this time of night! He'd no doubt take advantage of the sleeping castle, and pin her to a wall, demanding that she talk to him. She sneered to herself, thinking about his obsessive nature –it was completely inappropriate, and weakening. When he was obsessed with something, he concentrated his whole mind on it –which was good in some ways, bad in others.

Lost in thought, it took her a moment before realizing that she had walked right past her destination, and backtracked quickly to the painting of a bowl of fruit. She tickled the pear; it giggled, and turned into a door handle. She pulled the door open, shutting it carefully behind her. A high squeaky voice greeted her cheerfully. "Master Chrysy! Is been a long time since Lily sees you!" A house elf clung to her cloak, looking up at her adoringly.

Chrystine smiled indulgently. "It's been really hectic lately, Lily. Sorry I haven't been by in a while."

"Was Master Chrysy wanting some foods?" the little elf questioned. Chrystine nodded.

"That would be great, Lily. Just get me some of dinner, and then maybe some non-perishable foods for my pack?"

She kept a compartment of her bag just for food, just in case she had to disappear for a weekend –Slytherin was never very hospitable in the best of times, but with Tom Riddle prowling around as he did, she didn't want to provoke him by allowing him more access to her than necessary.

She sat a small table in the kitchens a while later, enjoying some meatloaf and a glass of sparkling cider –she'd always had a soft spot for cider, and thank goodness it wasn't alcohol! She wished aloud that she had a place where she could hide from everyone, a place quiet and secluded, where she could work on her stories in peace, so she didn't have to burn them all the time.

Lily overheard her, and came bouncing over, very excited. "I is knowing where yous can go, Master Chrysy!"

Chrystine looked up. "What?"

"Wes House Elves be calling it the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirement!" Lily informed her excitedly. "Is up on the seventh floor, it is, Master Chrysy! By the statue of Barnabas the Bewildered! If yous concentrate on something yous be wanting really hard, and yous be pacing three times, the Room of Requirement will open for yous!"

"Really?" Chrystine questioned, eyes wide. This was exactly what she needed! Lily nodded, quite literally bouncing around in eagerness.

So as soon as she finished her dinner, she swept out of the kitchen, determined to find this elusive 'Room of Requirement.' She just hoped she didn't run into Tom on the way, seeing as how he always seemed to pop up when she least expected him to –and when did she start referring to the arrogant prat as _Tom_?!

Tom Riddle was a brilliant, handsome young man with such charm that he held nearly everyone who ever met him under a sort of spell. _Nearly_ everyone, being the key words to that phrase. He wasn't remotely surprised that Dumbledore didn't trust his charm –he was the only one who knew about his past at the orphanage, the only one he'd ever shown any of his true nature to, in the excitement of learning about magic. He supposed he should have known better than to lose control in front of a new face, but in light of the events at the time, he hadn't been thinking straight.

What _did_ surprise him was the wariness with which Chrystine Roane treated him. He'd been careful, very careful, not to let his true nature show to anyone again after the little incident with Dumbledore –so why was she so insistent on avoiding him? That, coupled with her not-so-subtle hints about his 'followers' and 'sycophants,' made him sure that she knew more than she was letting on about him.

The question was, how did she know?

He would find out.

He was obsessed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Poppy's skin, already white and pristine, grew paler and chalkier as blood dripped slowly from her wrists. She brought the knife to her arm once again, drawing another jagged letter on it, relishing the pain it caused her. All her bad feelings and thoughts drained away with the blood spilling out across the marine-blue sheets of her bed, leaving crimson splashes on an ocean of blue ripples. She smiled faintly, and let the knife drop from her weak hands, listening to the music as it clanged on the floor, tinkling like church bells on Sunday morning. Black encroached on her vision, clouding her thoughts and leaving behind peacefulness like she'd never known. Then, with a soft, satisfied sigh, Poppy's soul lost its fight with the eternal dark, and she passed into the void, never to see life again._

Tom's eyes narrowed as he reached the end of the parchment. He'd seen it slip from Chrystine's bag as she was leaving Charms, and he'd picked it up, grateful for a chance to talk to her again. He'd had no idea that this scrap of parchment was one of her writings! He knew that she was a writer, how could he not, with how often she wrote –she was **always** writing one thing or another. But she'd always burned the writings before anyone else could see them. And here he was, with one of them in his hands! Oh no, he was not giving this **prize** back!

And what a surprise her writing was! He knew that she had to have some darkness to her, or she would never have been Sorted into Slytherin, but he'd never expected something like **this**! The whole parchment had been filled with the pain of the main character –Poppy –come to think, Poppy as in Poppy Pomfrey, from the third-year Gryffindors? –and torture until Poppy had taken her own life, which in and of itself was telling. '_Depressed, are we, my dear?_' he chuckled to himself.

He shouldn't have been so surprised, he mused as he began his pre-dinner prefect patrol. She was from a pureblood family that prided itself on being exclusively Ravenclaw, and she had become the first in her family –that people knew of- to not get into Ravenclaw. On top of that, she'd gotten Sorted into Slytherin, of all houses. He was sure that the petty Light blood-traitors had been horrified and disgusted with their first-born –and had made it quite clear that she was no longer welcome at her home. Then, of course, for one expecting all her life to be Sorted into Ravenclaw, she was not prepared for the ruthless cruelty and political maneuverings within Slytherin.

Five years, and he had never seen her _with_ anyone in a friendly sense. No one in the other houses wanted anything to do with a Slytherin, and she was too much an outcast for anyone within the House to extend a hand of kindness. She wasn't even powerful –until this year, which made Tom think that she'd been hiding the extent of her powers for quite some time. But he'd felt her magic, palpable and furious and _**powerful**_ on All Hallows Eve, and knew that he simply **had** to have her.

But he'd left her to her own devices for far too long, it seemed, for she was wary of him and wanted nothing to do with him. He supposed that she must have heard rumors about him, and watched as he brought every one of his enemies to his side. How even Abraxas Malfoy, the proudest and strongest pureblood of the lot, bent his pretty little head and begged for crumbs from his hands by the time Tom was done with him. Yes, she'd had plenty of warning and had taken it like a true Slytherin, and was now fighting him with the only tactic she had: avoidance. But he would catch her eventually.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he noticed a shadow moving along the seventh floor corridor that he knew housed the Room of Requirement. A cruel smile curled across his lips. He knew that it had to be her –who else would find the Come and Go Room, who else would have such a desperate need for that room than her, and who else would have to sneak through the shadows like a thief in the night, even before curfew?

He saw her nearing the portrait of Barnabas the Bewildered, and knew he had to stop her before she reached the room, for it would not let him in whilst she was in it, and he did not want her to know that he knew about the room. "Going somewhere important, sweetheart?" he called to her, laughing to himself as she spun around, surprised. When she saw it was him, her eyes widened with fear –now where had **that** come from? –and she made to bolt. He prevented it with a casual binding charm, stopping her in her tracks but not paralyzing her. He set up a privacy charm and a notice-me-not charm, knowing he wouldn't get another chance like this for quite some time if he let her get away now.

"Now that's not very nice," he murmured, stepping closer to her. "Running away all the time will give people the wrong impression, you know."

Her fists clenched and with a surge of magic, broke free of the binding charm, but it was too late; Tom already had her pinned to the wall by her arms. "Let go of me!" She hissed furiously. Tom shook his head, tutting at her.

"Now, Roane, why on earth would I do that? I have many questions for you, and you keep avoiding me. You should know that one way or another, I **always** get what I want." He grinned predatorily. "And right now, I want _you_."

"Fuck off, Riddle!" She spat, twisting and trying to break free –but she was no match for his strength.

"My, what a dirty little mind you have there, honey," Tom cooed, pleased to see her amethyst eyes burn with defiance.

"Don't call me those names! And I definitely was _not_ thinking **that**!" She growled, a tinge of pink pooling in her cheeks.

"Do I see a blush, my pet?" Tom smirked.

Chrystine snarled at that, pushing up against his arms with all her strength, determined to break free. Tom's eyes flashed dangerously, and he hissed something in another language. Her eyes widened with fear as she realized what the spell was doing, and she struggled futilely before slumping into his arms, unconscious.

Tom looked down at his prize, chuckling softly to himself. He was glad it was a Friday –Chrystine often disappeared over weekends, and were she missing a few days, no one would notice for some time. A cruel, satisfied smirk appeared. By the time he was done with her, she would be begging for scraps of his favor too, just like all of his other broken toys.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I am very surprised and pleased at the notice this story is getting. I started it one day, inspired by Past's Player, on a whim, posted it on a whim, and lookie here, I'm already on the fourth chappie. Who'd a thunk? Anyways, hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it… hee-hee I have an evil little Tom in my head laughing right now. Oh dear God –he is planning something, I just know it!**

*** Yes, this was taken shamelessly from Chapter 147 in Fate's Favorite. It was just totally something I saw my Tom –very reminiscent of Fate's Favorite's Tom- doing. Sorry Fictionist, I just love your ideas!**

Chrystine groaned as she awoke, feeling a pounding headache behind her closed eyes. _Where was she? What happened?_ Then she remembered –the hallway, Riddle appearing. _"Going somewhere important, sweetheart?_" She'd tried to run –to find that she could not move… he'd closed in on her like a predator closing in on prey –and by the time she'd gotten out of the binding spell, he'd had her pinned to the wall. Then, as she had tried to escape, again –he'd hissed something, and everything had gone black.

Slightly panicking, she explored her senses, not opening her eyes yet. The metallic taste of deep sleep filled her mouth; she swallowed a few times, hoping to chase it away. She shifted –she was lying on a soft surface- but realized she could not move more than a few centimeters in any direction. It was then that she noticed the bonds on her wrists and ankles –the bonds not digging into her skin, but strong when she pulled on them.

She opened her eyes, fear flooding her. _He'd caught her!_ At first all she saw was white light, but it faded to a neutral gray after a minute. She was staring up at a stone ceiling –she could be anywhere in Hogwarts. She turned her head this way and that. Her captor was nowhere to be seen. She was in a small room equipped with a small bed –which she was lying on, tied to the head and foot boards –and a single chair –presumably where Tom would situate himself to interrogate her.

Chrystine pulled at the bonds hopelessly, knowing that Tom (why was she calling him by his first name again?) would have left no avenue for escape –he was much too smart, and she had evaded him for far too long. Sure enough, they didn't give. *****Getting angry with herself, Chrystine summoned her magic, trying to use wandless and wordless –come to think, where _was_ her wand? –magic to escape, only to cry out in pain as the bonds **shocked** her.*****

There was a soft, cruel chuckle and a door slid open, revealing Tom Riddle. "I wouldn't try that if I were you, darling. They're specially meant to hold wizards, and such, would not allow a powerful wizard to escape using magic. They'll shock you each time you try to use magic, worse the more times you try. Give it up; you won't be escaping this. I've waited much, much too long for this."

"What the hell do you want, Riddle?" Chrystine spat, slumping helplessly on the bed.

"There are many things I desire to have, Roane. Power, prestige, immortality… you," he answered nonchalantly.

Chrystine stared at the boy, shaking her head slowly. "You really mean it, don't you?" she murmured quietly. "You… you're a sociopath –or a psychopath, I'm not sure which one yet. You really don't view the rest of us as human beings, do you?"

Riddle's eyes flashed, the dark onyx lightening for a second, burning like embers –a ring of red appeared for a millisecond, then was gone. "I am a psychopath –but I do view you all as human beings. It's myself that I don't view as human. Oh no, I'm much, much more than mere mortal, Roane." As he spoke, the black of his eyes drained away, leaving ruby spheres glowing at her from an otherwise handsome face –and why the hell was she thinking _that_? She was certainly going insane.

The red in his eyes made her pause a moment, fear rippling up and down her spine. "If you're not a human, than what are you?" She challenged, wishing that her voice didn't sound so shaky. Riddle threw back his head and laughed, a high, cold, cruel laugh that didn't suit the persona he usually displayed for the world.

"I'll let you think on that one, hmmm, sweetheart?" he hummed gleefully. Chrystine's lip curled.

"Stop calling me those names!" she demanded angrily, pulling at the bonds once more.

"And why should I do that, honey?" Riddle asked, triumph gleaming in every part of his face –the bastard believed that he had her, and perhaps, most likely, he did.

Chrystine clenched her teeth and forced herself to think like the Slytherin she was –no matter how she wanted to deny it. "What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me couple nicknames?" she tried, knowing she was as blunt as a Gryffindor, but knowing no other way to ask without Riddle twisting her words.

A smirk crawled its way across Riddle's lips. "Ah, so it's to be a deal then, little raven-snake?" Chrystine shot him another glare, but at least this 'endearment' was an accurate description. "Very well. You want me to stop referring to you with 'couple nicknames' as you call it? You have to spend at least one weekend with me and my associates every two weeks."

Chrystine's eyes narrowed. She wanted nothing to do with him at all –but if it would stop the embarrassing names… imagine if Lucretia Black or Yelana Parkinson heard Riddle calling her one of those names, there was no telling what they would do to her. All the girls in the school, it seemed, were infatuated by Riddle. She had no wish to become a victim to fan girls.

"Once every month," she said firmly. "I'm too busy to spend all my time with you, Riddle."

Riddle grinned predatorily, an edge of danger to his smile. "Oh no, that is too little. I think you underestimate the magnitude of my… _obsession_." Chrystine's breath caught at the suggestive tone in his voice, and then she cursed herself for even entertaining the thought. "How about a compromise? Every two weeks, at least one day, not both days?" he suggested.

Chrystine bit her lip. It equaled out to the same as what she had wanted, just more often –two days a month. Two long, full days with Tom Riddle and his band of sycophants. She grimaced but conceded. "Fine. One day every two weeks."

Tom literally oozed smugness and triumph –and really, she needed to stop referring to him by his first name! "You got what you wanted, now let me go!" she demanded angrily, pulling once more at her restraints, gasping in pain as it shocked her. Riddle laughed sinisterly, moving closer.

"Oh, I don't think so, Chrystine. You see, it _is_ the weekend now, and didn't you just agree to twice a month you would spend with me? Now seems like a good place to start." His voice was full of amusement.

"That doesn't mean you get the right to tie me up, Riddle! Let me out, _**now**_," she snarled.

Riddle's eyes flashed angrily. "I see that we'll have to do this the hard way. Let's get this straight, Roane. _**I**_ am the master here –you do not order me about; you do not speak to me in such tones, and above all, you will do as I say."

"Or what?!" Chrystine spat, thrashing against the restraints, no longer caring about the painful shocks coursing through her.

"Or I'll have to punish you," Riddle said sweetly, pressing his wand into her neck. Chrystine froze at the touch of the yew. The slight trickling of fear that had been slowly building suddenly burst out of whatever damn it had been behind, and she literally shook with terror. Then she was screaming, high and long and loud, as the worst pain imaginable filled all her senses. Riddle held the curse for ten excruciatingly long minutes before releasing the spell.

Chrystine slumped, unable to move beyond breathing hoarsely from her nonstop screaming. Then she felt a hand running through her hair, across her forehead, soothingly. "If only you would learn not to defy me, Chrystine," Tom lamented. "I could give you everything you ever wanted. All you have to do is submit."

Chrystine gritted her teeth. "Nice try, Riddle, but it will take more than torture to break me."

Tom laughed at that, delightedly. "Oh, I know, Chrystine, believe me, I know. It doesn't matter to me; actually, I'd prefer it if you were to take a long time to break. I do get bored so easily, and besides, hearing your screams is simply breathtakingly beautiful. But no matter, no matter. I do have prefect rounds to do, so if you'll excuse me. I'll be back in the morning with some food. You'd like that, wouldn't you, my little raven-snake?"

Chrystine bit her tongue before she said something that would get her crucioed again. "Give me a minute; you wouldn't like the response on the tip of my tongue," she replied. Tom laughed and strode out of the door.

After ten minutes had passed, Chrystine knew he wasn't coming back for a while. That was when she let go of her damaged pride, and began to cry, despair welling up from deep within her soul.

**A/N: awwww Chrystine is having a hard time keeping up with Tom. But don't worry, she'll be back to her normal defiant self in no time. She's just having a minor breakdown. Everyone is entitled to one every once in a while, right? Anyways, hope you enjoyed it; please leave a review with your thoughts!**

**Oooh, as an incentive –first three reviewers get to request a certain scene between Tom and Chrystine! –And yes, there will be eventual romance between the two, so don't be shy to ask for fluff!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: And hello again! Sorry it took so long to get it out; I was busy with finishing my pokémon fanfiction. Wow, I am still constantly surprised at the feedback I'm getting on this. Three favorites and triple that many follows, and what, how many reviews now, 10? Wow. The winners were: I'm Just Slytherin Around, AlexiaColtRiddle, and Caramiss, give them a round of applause! :D Tell me what you would like me to write, you three! ;D**

Tom smirked cruelly as he woke up the next morning. Everything was coming together nicely, just as he knew it would. After all, Lord Voldemort always got what he wanted.

He shuddered in remembered pleasure as wide, violet, terror-filled eyes appeared in his mind's eye. Chrystine's fear was different than others' fear. It took quite a lot for the girl to be frightened –she'd been attacked by a raging Hippogriff last year in Magical Creatures, but she had not screamed, merely sidestepped the beast and vaulted onto its back, reining it in. Hmm, maybe his raven-snake had a little lion in her, too. She certainly had bravery in abundance.

Perhaps it was because it took so much to draw it out that her terror was so sweet, but there was something else to it. Even when she shook in fear and terror shone in her eyes, she kept pushing, kept up the defiance, and there was always a burn of her spirit at the back of her eyes.

He wondered what it would take to make that spark disappear.

He got out of bed and got dressed, eyes sweeping the dorm as he did so. The rest of the Slytherins were all asleep, of course. He always got up before anyone else. § Tempus, § he hissed quietly, waving his wand. A clock appeared before him, signifying that it was seven in the morning. He banished the clock with another wave of his wand, and walked out of the dorm, heading towards the kitchens. His newest toy would probably be hungry –she'd missed dinner last night, after all.

§ Outrageous Obsessions §

Chrystine woke to the sound of a door opening. Her eyes shot open, remembering last night. She trembled in spite of herself as she saw T– Riddle enter the room, holding a tray of food. A predatory smirk crossed his face when he looked at her, and she shook harder, cursing herself for showing weakness.

"Morning, Chrystine. Did you have a good sleep?" Riddle asked amicably, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

Chrystine turned her head away, ignoring him, breathing hard, fists and teeth clenched tightly. Riddle tutted. "Do you really think that's going to make any difference in how I treat you, Chrystine?" Cold fingers slid under her chin, gripping it firmly, turning her face toward his. "Come now, Chrystine, play nice. It could be a lot worse, you know."

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Chrystine challenged him, angrily.

"Well, I could have you chained to the wall with your arms above you, yanking them from their sockets; in a dank, dirty dungeon where rats and cockroaches dwell, crawling over you," Riddle replied smoothly, his dark eyes glittering amusedly. "I could be torturing you; starving you. You have no idea the things I could do to you, Chrystine. Yet here we are –you're relatively comfortable, and I'm giving you food; and I haven't tortured you… much."

Chrystine gave him a glare. "What makes you think that you're going to get away with this anyway, Riddle? Aren't you afraid I'll tell? Surely _someone_ will notice that I'm gone, besides!"

Tom threw back his head and laughed. "You're not going to tell, Chrystine," he stated confidently. "You are too independent to go to someone else for help. And even if you did, who would believe you? Who would the staff rather believe: me, the model student, prefect; or you, while a good student, quiet and shy, no social life at all?"

"Dumbledore would believe it," Chrystine said smugly. Tom's eyes flashed scarlet for a moment, but he merely grinned at her indulgently.

"Oh, I don't know, Chrystine; he seems to hate you just as much as he does me. Who would he believe out of the two of us?"

"If it were to drag you down a few notches, he'd believe his own worst enemy," Chrystine said dryly.

"Quite," Tom agreed. "I know why he doesn't like me; but I've never quite understood why he dislikes you so."

"Does he really need a reason aside from the fact that I'm a Slytherin?" Chrystine asked bitterly.

"That's true," Tom admitted. "But he seems to hold a particular dislike for you, just as he does me."

"I don't see how it's any of your business anyway, Riddle," Chrystine huffed, looking away. Tom stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then he took out his wand and waved it. Chrystine frowned in surprise when her bonds disappeared. She sat up, slowly, cautiously, wondering if this was some new trick. Tom crossed the room and halted before the door, looking over his shoulder.

"Eat; then you can leave. I'll see you in two weeks, Chrystine." And then he was gone with a swish of his cloak.

Chrystine frowned after him. _What was _that_ all about?_ She wondered. He knocks her unconscious, abducts her, ties her up, and then within minutes of waking her up, lets her go? It made no sense to Chrystine. _He really must be a psycho. He doesn't make sense at all!_ She huffed again, turning to the plate of food he'd left. She eyed it uncertainly. She wasn't about to eat something Riddle had brought –who knew what he'd done to it?

She crossed to the door and attempted to open it, but it would not open. She frowned. He'd said she could leave… after eating. She groaned. She should have known he'd do something like this. She just hoped to Merlin that he hadn't put in a love potion or something equally as embarrassing or harmful into the food.

Thankfully, nothing happened once she was finished eating, except for the door unlocking. Chrystine left the room, and looked around. She was in the dungeons. She fled for the Room of Requirement.

**A/N: Poor Chrystine! Tom is spinning a web around her… but don't worry, she still has a few tricks of her own still up her sleeve. ^^ Look forward to the next installment!**


End file.
